


Inconvenient

by M3zzaTh3M3z



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Asexual Character, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, billy doesn't find the letter or fall off the andromache, they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 02:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20649788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M3zzaTh3M3z/pseuds/M3zzaTh3M3z
Summary: It took Billy a moment to work out what he’d seen. Dufresne, sat on a driftwood log just beyond the next tent, wincing his way through a new (his first?) tattoo. The strange moment of recognition without understanding he put down to the vicious haircut he’d gotten. The sudden pang in his chest… maybe he was still relieved to see their quiet books had survived the fight after all. Or it was the surprise of seeing his ridiculous floppy hair gone like that.





	Inconvenient

**Author's Note:**

> My first black sails fic! For a rare pair apparently ;_; I haven't watched s2 yet but I really liked s1 and Dufresne so I couldn't help myself. Please let me know if I mixed up boat names or something, I did my best while trying to avoid spoilers on the wiki lmao.

The problem with Nassau, Billy decided, as he walked the sweltering, bustling streets, was that it wasn’t the open sea. Out there, things were simple – or if not simple, then certainly straightforward. There was the hunt, the days of sailing and work to maintain the ship, work he took responsibility, _pride_ even in, and then the battle: brutal, bloody, but only if they made it so, only if they refused surrender. He killed, but took no pleasure in it, killed to ensure their livelihoods, killed to stop those who would kill him and his brothers in arms, men he cared about. And then they would take their cargo, and Dusfresne would make careful note of it all and the captain would announce how much each man would make, and they’d head back to port.

Those were the best days, the journey just after a prize had been taken, when spirits were high and the men buzzed with the promise of wealth and women, when even Dusfresne would smile, and sea shanties were sang long into the night. When the crew felt like a family – what Billy sometimes secretly imagined a family would be like at least. He loved those days, the stress of another fight behind them for the moment, just the sea and their ship and straightforward work and time spent with his friends.

It was when they got to Nassau that everything got fucked. That was where the politics happened, the deals and talks between captains, the subtle, or sometimes violent shifts of power, the push and pull of forces beyond Billy’s comprehension. The phases of the moon, the tides, the currents, the wind and the waves and the ship beneath his feet, _those_ were the forces he understood. Gates had taught him the loyalties of the crew, Dufresne the way numbers lined on a page could turn to pesos in a pocket, but the way Captain Flint saw the world, the coming war he spoke of, kings and princes and monsters – Billy didn’t have a clue. And it seemed every time they came to land matters only got worse, twisting them up in a web of events. He could only hope _their_ Captain, and nobody else, was the spider at the centre.

Recent days, especially the trouble with the _Andromache,_ left the crew unsettled as they mourned their dead, and Billy, always attuned to the mood of the ship, had found himself unbearably restless. The _Walrus,_ usually a place of (relative) comfort and (relative) safety, became oppressively stifling, the doubts and paranoia of his mind impossible to drown out, and so, as soon as his duties were complete, he went to shore.

Most men would have made straight for the brothel, but once his initial curiosity had been satisfied some years back, Billy had never had much interest in the place, or its supposed pleasures. He knew he was an oddity of sorts, but he commanded enough affection and respect not to get anything more troubling than the occasional joke. There were rumours he still had a touch of the religious about him, rumours he didn’t assuage, though that wasn’t truthfully it. No, Billy knew he wouldn’t find release from his troubles in the arms (or between the legs, for that matter) of one of the girls at The Inn.

Knowing that wouldn’t solve the problem of what _would_ though.

He’d tried a few drinks at the tavern, but hardly sat there twenty minutes before feeling that urge to his feet again.

He’d tried walking up to the hills and back again, but his unease still wouldn’t leave.

The worst part was, he wasn’t even sure what it was _about._ Sure, there were plenty of dangers about, plenty of reasons for concern, but most he’d known about for days, so why was he onset with this – this _anxiety_ about it all now?

Perhaps the sea would do the job, as it so often had before. He didn’t need to go back out to the Walrus; maybe walking along the water’s edge would be enough to calm his mind, or at least take it off everything for a while.

It was worth a shot, so he made his way down through the town, past the merchants and squabbling pirates and beckoning girls, until the sand turned soft beneath his feet and men bustled to and fro about their beach camp, many greeting him with a nod or a smile. Billy returned them all, glad even through these difficult times he had kept their trust.

Even if he didn’t deserve it.

He’d intended to pass right through, straight down to wave-lapped damp sand before beginning his walk proper, but as he neared the edge of camp he was struck with a sudden… _jolt_ of feeling, and came to a stop.

It took him a moment to work out what he’d seen. Dufresne, sat on a driftwood log just beyond the next tent, wincing his way through a new (his first?) tattoo. The strange moment of recognition without understanding he put down to the vicious haircut he’d gotten. The sudden pang in his chest… maybe he was still relieved to see their quiet books had survived the fight after all. Or it was the surprise of seeing his ridiculous floppy hair gone like that.

Billy squinted as the tattooist worked, but he was too far away to make out the design. A circle of sorts? Instead, he watched Dufresne, the way he fought to hide his grimaces, his flinches, and felt a surprising rush of – pride? Well, even the Ship’s Accountant was technically one of his men, it was only natural to be proud he didn’t have cowards under him. And Dufresne may have been terrified, but he had already more than proved his bravery.

Others had noticed too. Every now and then a passing man would stop, ready with a smile and a pat on the back, a ruffle of what remained of his hair, and Dufresne, never one used to the affections of most of the crew, accepted it all with a warm (if slightly shy) smile.

Something about it didn’t sit right with Billy. The unsettled feeling worked his way into his stomach again. They shouldn’t be bothering him like that; the poor man had been through a rough few days. Billy knew the crew’s sense of humour, and he didn’t think Dufresne needed to be dealing with shark jokes and the like right now.

He was suddenly reminded of that moment in the cabin, Dufresne sat quietly with his papers, blood-spattered, fingers still shaking even if he tried to hide it, and the way he’d looked at him as he’d thanked him for the lie that might just have saved his life. Billy had felt – well - _good_ in that brief second, not that there was truly anything good about the whole business. But Dufresne had almost smiled at him and – what? What did one man’s smile mean when their futures hung in the balance like this?

More than Billy would have first thought, apparently.

But then he’d reached out, caught by a sudden urge to push back his hair from his face or wipe the blood from his jaw, and even though he’d ended up only clasping his shoulder Dufresne had gone still and quiet. Billy couldn’t remember what he’d said, but he’d given a reassuring wink and smile, then kicked himself as Dufresne went red, the way he did as his temper grew.

Before he was even aware he’d decided to move, Billy found himself approaching just as two more men wandered off. Dufresne’s eyes followed them, before snapping onto Billy and he broke into a smile. “Oh, hello there.”

The unsettled feeling increased, though something about it had changed. Unsettled, but _good._

“Yer done,” the tattooist said, getting to his feet, and Dufresne nodded his thanks.

“What have you got there?” Billy asked.

“Oh, um.” Dufresne got to his feet and turned his shoulder towards him, revealing the still bleeding outline of a shark’s jaw. “Some of the men suggested it,” he explained, sounding slightly embarrassed as he started to walk away. Billy fell in step next to him without thinking about it. “Seemed to think it was… fitting.”

Grinning, Billy rubbed his hand over Dufresne’s scalp, leaving it even more messed up than before. “I was talking about this.”

His shoulders went up and Dufresne looked away; Billy let his hand slide off and watched him curiously. “T-They said it’s traditional. All done in good fun. I think,” Dufresne said, pulling aside the flap that served as door to his ‘office’ of a tent. He ducked in, but held it back for Billy to follow, before striding to his desk and turning to face him again. “Be honest,” he continued, and his eyes had something of that puppy-dog look he’d given Billy a few days before. “Is it really as bad as I suspect?”

“Er.” Billy stepped closer and reached out, smoothing down a few of the hairs he’d stuck up. It helped a tiny bit, but nothing but time could fix the uneven patches. “Nah, you look good. Fine, I mean. It’s fine.”

Again, Dufresne tensed up and he turned his head away, though this time Billy could see the red patches of heat spreading across his cheeks. “Th-thank you,” he replied stiffly, his voice sticking a little. “Once more, I appreciate your lie.”

It was hot inside the tent. Suddenly, Billy was very aware of the sweat rolling down his back, the pounding of his chest, the short distance between himself and Dufresne, the clamour of the men outside, and all the unsettled bad feeling washed back over him.

“I’m sorry,” Billy muttered, bringing his arm back.

“For what?”

“It’s clear you don’t like me touching you.”

“I don’t –“

“You freeze, you look away, and I know you’re pissed off now because you’ve gone red.”

“That’s, um, not –“

“I’ve watched you argue with Gates enough times to know how you look when you’re mad.” Dufresne’s frown grew, and Billy put up his hands in what he hoped was a calming manner, cutting him off before he could speak. “Look, it’s fine, everyone’s got their reasons. As long as we don’t have a problem personally, it doesn’t matter. I won’t do it again.”

Dufresne brought his head up, met him eye to eye. “I’m not angry!” A second later his eyes went wide and he bit his lip, going redder. “Dammit,” he swore under his breath.

“Well… you sounded kind of angry just now,” Billy said reasonably. Something about Dufresne had definitely been off lately, since before the _Andromache_ even. He didn’t _think_ he’d always shied away from his touch like he did now, though there was also the matter Billy wasn’t sure he’d always been so _aware_ of him like he was now. They’d been alone in this tent, or similar, plenty of times over the years. So why did this time feel so charged?

Clasping his hands together, Dufresne took a deep breath and briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he couldn’t quite meet Billy’s gaze. “I am _irritated_ that you insist I am _angry_ when, in fact, sometimes people just do an inconvenient thing called blushing!”

Billy blinked. “Why…?”

“I don’t know, do I look like the ship’s doctor to you?”

“I mean why… at me?”

Sighing, Dufresne ran a hand over his face, leaning back against the desk. “_Please_ don’t make me spell it out.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just –“

“And I thought the quartermaster needed a brain! I don’t _dislike_ you touching me, I…” Suddenly there was something very interesting about his waistcoat, because Dufresne kept fiddling with the button, doing and undoing it as he stumbled through an explanation. “I actually… rather like it. I’m not – used to that. Not used to wanting to – to…”

There’s a moment, out on the ocean, when you see a mountain of a wave approaching and before the drop, before the swell, you have a second to know with perfect clarity you’re about to get fucked sideways.

“Wanting to what?” Billy asked quietly, barely more than a breath. They were close enough he knew Dufresne could hear him.

Scowling, Dufresne clenched his fists and turned away, bumping against the desk he’d backed up against. “Wanting to – _oh_, fuck it.” Whipping around, he grabbed Billy by the lapels and pulled him in.

For a little man he was surprisingly strong, or maybe it was the surprise and Billy simply let himself be moved, and then he registered the warm lips on his and all the unsettled, bad, anxious feeling was replaced with a tingly rush, and all he could think was, _oh, oh, oh_ with a side of _Jesus Christ._

It was a short kiss, too short, but Billy didn’t try to hold on when Dufresne pulled back. Somehow his hands had wrapped around his wrists, and he let go, reluctantly. He was breathing heavily, his heart hammering, everything felt warm and huh, he’d had no idea a kiss could make you feel like this, maybe everyone else had a point after all.

He had a thousand things he wanted to say, but only one coherent sentence made it to the top of the list and out of his mouth.

“Well, that was better than the whores.”

In retrospect, perhaps Billy could have chosen his words slightly better.

Dufresne went _very _red.

Billy was struck by the realisation this was adorable, and smiled. “Are you mad because that’s an insult, or blushing because it’s a compliment?”

“I’m –“ Dufresne bought a fist to his mouth, his eyes pale blue moons behind his glasses. “Oh god. I kissed you.”

“You did,” Billy agreed cheerfully. He was a little dizzy actually, and strangely light, like his feet might be an inch above the sand.

“I can’t believe I did that.”

“Me neither, to be honest.”

“I’ve never done that before!” Dufresne was working himself to a state, arms gesturing wildly. “It was – it was unprofessional! Inappropriate!”

“Calm down man. We’re pirates. Those sorts of word don’t apply to us.”

“Yes but – but - !” Groaning, he buried his face in his hands, shoulders sagging. “I’m very sorry. Please don’t report me to the Captain.”

“Hey, hey, no, I’m not going to do that,” Billy said. He laid a hand on Dufresne’s arm, and this time didn’t remove it when he tensed. Recent feelings were starting to make a lot more sense. “I liked it, I really did.”

Dufresne lowered his hands a little. “O-Oh?”

“I reckon I’ve liked you for a while now. And going on – that – I guess you feel the same.”

With a sigh, Dufresne bought his hands down fully and rolled his eyes in a most endearing and Dufresne-like way. “Well, _yes_, but it’s not intentional or anything. It’s actually very inconvenient.”

“It’s inconvenient for me too, you know,” Billy retorted, but he smiled so Dufresne would know he was half-joking. “Ever since the _Andromache_ I haven’t been able to stop worrying about what might have happened to you.”

“Well that’s foolish. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Apart from the haircut.”

“It really is awful, isn’t it?” Dufresne said, one hand touching his scalp.

Billy nodded sympathetically. “’Fraid so.” He bent down and pressed a small kiss to his forehead, the way he’d wanted to in the _Andromache_’s cabin, and maybe a hundred times before that. “It’ll grow back.” He laughed as he drew back – Dufresne was blushing again. “C’mon, you can’t kiss me like that, then go all coy at _this._”

“That was – heat of the moment. I didn’t think it through.”

“Want to try again?”

Dufresne swallowed – Billy watched, hypnotised, as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down – and then slowly, deliberately, nodded.

Grinning, Billy was about to lean in again, when the logical part of his brain good at sorting out ropes and chore rotas and men stepped in with a logistics report. He was very tall, Dufresne was very short, and if they were going to try out this kissing thing for any length of time, things would get uncomfortable quickly.

Luckily, a certain amount of strength came alongside his height. Billy grabbed Dufresne’s waist and lifted him easily onto the desk edge.

“M-Mind the papers!” he squeaked, but he couldn’t hide his pleased little smile so Billy suspected it was more for show than anything.

“Papers are fine,” he replied, stepping in so he could cup Dufresne’s face. He missed his slightly silly reddish hair, but with it gone he could see him properly for once, and found him kind of handsome, in a strange way. Strange because Billy wasn’t used to finding anyone handsome at all. “Ready?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Billy smiled and leaned in, but stopped just before their mouths. “Oh, one more thing,” he added He tapped Dufresne’s lips with one finger, enjoying the way his breath caught. “No biting, alright?”

**Author's Note:**

> Halfway through writing this I realised they probably shaved Dufresne because he's the quartermaster but shh pretend it's because he killed a guy. We're already pretending Billy's around so :/
> 
> Basically, I binged s1 in a day, got inexplicably attached to who I only knew as 'glasses bitch' for most of the season, got incredibly hyped for Billy/glasses bitch, was immediately crushed, and now I don't know this man so AU where his haircut doesn't completely change his characterisation I guess??
> 
> Also, I'm glad I'm apparently not the only one who saw Billy and was like 'ace pirate icon!' Him and Dufresne both ended up kind of demi in this, but I totally believe they're both ace-spec :)
> 
> I hope it was enjoyable to read! Kudos and comments super appreciated! <3


End file.
